


Spy Kids

by bordt



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Espionage, I did not do any research for this shizz, M/M, Reconnaissance, well its just an interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bordt/pseuds/bordt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the amount of cigars Komaeda has been huffing, the room is slowly resembling a hotbox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spy Kids

**Author's Note:**

> WE HAVE TO FINGER THE CULPRIT!  
> THANKS SO MUCH CHRISTINA, TALKING ABOUT THIS FIC WAS MORE FUN THAN WRITING IT!
> 
> I hope you like suspense. I think I could've made it even more suspensful but I'm tired and impatient so this is all.

The meeting is roughly three meters below sea level. This underground bar was chosen mainly for privacy as it’s not a sociable place. It’s quiet, not unusually so for a Monday evening. With the amount of cigars Komaeda has been huffing, the room is slowly resembling a hotbox. A man with hair as spiky as a blowfish slides in the seat next to him. Komaeda raises his eyebrows lightly, but it’s not like he’s one to talk.

“Got a light?”

Automatically, he clicks his zippo and slides the flame underneath his cigarette. Even more smoke. Komaeda doubts he’ll be able to see more than a foot ahead of him after an hour or so.

“Name’s Hinata.”

“Komaeda.” Hinata smiles.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” he says as he signals the bartender to pour him a stiff one, on the rocks.

 

 

That’s the last thing Komaeda remembers. Pitch darkness surrounds him as he assesses what he’s feeling. His wrists itch. His legs are immobile.

 _Damn it, I drank too much._ He thinks.

“No drink could do what I gave you,” a voice floats by and startles him.

_Shit, did I say that out loud?_

“Yeah, and you said that out loud too.” _A familiar, but new voice…_

He’s having trouble matching the corresponding face. _Oh_ , when he realizes, that smile, the last thing he remembered...

Hinata is tired of teasing him and rips off the blindfold.

It’s not that much brighter without the covering, but the difference makes Komaeda blink anyways. The room, more like a closet, hosts a naked bulb, with a brass chain, beaming dim radiance. It’s the only light in the room and casts a gloomy spotlight. A light stand and a suitcase are the only actors in the room aside from them. His costar sports a face as murky as the light in the room and immediately asks him a question.

“Where do you keep the files?”

“You move fast. Can’t you give me dinner before you start?”

“You’re not in a position to negotiate. Where are the files.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I was hoping for some lobster tonight,” Komaeda winces as Hinata clicks the floodlight on and pushes it into his face.

“You’re such a professional, huh? Not even letting go and drinking too much on duty. I had to slip something into your drink for a chance. But instead of loosening your tongue, it looks like all it did was knock you out!” Hinata shakes his head, looking disappointed. “I thought a spy would have more resistance to such methods. I guess you were resistant, but in such an inconvenient way... I had to jump through some hoops to get you here, though. It’s suspicious! a man carrying another unconscious man through the streets. I hope you’ll appreciate the effort it took to get you here. Are you that experienced? I don’t think you’ll withstand what I’ve got planned for you, so you might as well get it over with now.”

“Are you done?” Hinata’s expression doesn’t change.

“What, you want some more?” The innuendo isn’t lost on Komaeda. He almost grins.

“Look, I know how irresistible I look with these cords tied around me,” he pulls on the ones looped around his wrists for emphasis, “but I really don’t know what you’re talking about when you mention something about files--”

There’s a clatter when Hinata drops the light. Komaeda’s fluffy, almost cotton textured hair loses a couple strands as Hinata grabs it roughly.

“You. Will tell me. Where the files are kept. Don’t make me make you regret. This,” he forces out in a deep monotone, centimeters from Komaeda’s complexion. He shakes Komaeda’s head around to make him wince.

“Make me,” and with that Komaeda pecks the corner of his mouth.

And with that Hinata jumps, losing his grip and stumbling backwards.

“What are you, fuckin’ gay?” he spits.

Komaeda laughs, cheerful and lucent notes bouncing all over the walls of the small and stuffy room. He’s hunched over, leg to leg of chair tied together with scratchy rope bunching the fabric around the calves. Hinata notices this from his vantage point of the floor, and it only aggravates him. Komaeda wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. Hopping from plan A to plan B, it looks like he’ll have to take one last leap before officially taking a last resort. He’ll have to take out his--

“Hey, hey, hey. No need to get hasty. It’s not easy to scrub those kind of stains out, especially from carpet,” a note of intensity rises from Komaeda’s voice as Hinata brandishes a silver revolver from the suitcase on the floor.

“Relax, there’s only one bullet in the chamber,” and Hinata swings it open to show him.

“I don’t think that’s as reassuring as you think it is,” and for the first time Komaeda allows a glimmer of fear to escape his physiognomy. A tremble moves through his knotted body, betraying his experienced facade once he realizes it’s loaded.

Hinata relishes that emotion. _Finally_ , he thinks and he shuts the chamber and spins it and aims.

“Please, please, you’re making a mistake, you haven’t even laid out any tarp before shooting, you’ll get your nice suit dirty, please--” he stammers like a child and squeezes his eyes shut. Drops of moisture collect at the corners of his eyes as Hinata clicks.

“One,” he calls. Komaeda whimpers.

Click. “Two.” Dampness rolls down his cheeks.

Click. “Three.” He leaks a spring and it spills down the sides of the chair.

Click. “Four.” Komaeda is shaking and grinding his teeth so hard, it could convert anyone into a sadist.

Click. “Five.” Drip. The alcohol magnifies the stench of his piss and makes the room feel even more miniscule. A heavy silence fills in the cracks and Komaeda acquiesces.

“It’s, it’s, I’ll tell you,” he gasps, and Hinata sneers. _Works like a charm._

 

 


End file.
